Disclaimer- Not mine. Unfortunately.

Saturday Night Fever

It was Saturday evening in the end of February. Although it wasn't snowing or raining, it was unbelievably cold. And the heat was all screwed up again, only this time they couldn't blame it on Benny. Mark wrapped his scarf tighter around his neck, then blew into his hands, trying to keep them warm. He sighed wearily. He had so much work to do, and so little motivation to do it. He had a feeling he'd spend half the night editing.

Mimi's sudden entry into the loft put an end to his thoughts. "Hey, Mark," she said smiling. He raised his head from the mess in front of him and smiled back. She was getting so much better, ever since that night on Christmas, not so long ago. She was still a little weak, but they were all taking care of her the best they could. She got back to work in the beginning of the month, and already started talking about things she wanted to do with her life, like going back to school maybe. He knew she was going to be fine.

"So are you coming with us?" she asked, dropping herself on an armchair nearby.

"Coming where?" he asked, messing with his projector.

"We're gonna grab some dinner at Life," said Roger, who had just come out of his bedroom. He approached the armchair Mimi was sitting on and gave her a quick kiss. Mark smiled to himself and looked away, to give them some privacy. Dinner at Life. It was tempting, because he was hungry, and God knew he needed some fresh air, no matter how freezing it was outside. Yet on the other hand…

"Can we afford it?" he wondered aloud.

"It's pay day, Marky. It's on me," smiled Mimi. "Come on."

"Okay sure, I'll just get my co-" he was cut off by their phone. Their machine quickly took over.

"SPEEAAAAAK!"

"Mark, are you there? It's me, Maureen." He cringed at the sound of her voice. But she didn't sound like herself. She sounded kind of strange. From the corner of his eye he could see Roger rolling his eyes. He ignored him and kept listening. "I know you must have other plans because it's Saturday night and all that, but I kind of ne-" A loud sneeze cut her off abruptly, following by a sniffing sound. "-Sorry about that. Anyway yeah, as you can hear I don't feel so hot, and Joanne is out of town so I didn't know who else to call… I feel really dizzy, I dunno what's wrong, the room starts spi-"

He hurried over to where the phone was and grabbed the receiver. "Maureen? Are you okay? No, I was on my way out- yeah. Sure, of course. I'll be right there." He tried to hang up with some dignity, avoiding looking at Roger directly.

"Don't tell me," said Roger dryly as Mark put on his coat and picked up his bike from the corner. "She wants you to come over and rescue her again."

"You heard her. She's sick, and she can't call Joanne because she has meetings out of town."

"And who are you, the next of kin?" asked Roger, but he didn't wait for Mark's reply as he went on. "Come on, Mark, can't you see what's going on here?"

"She's my friend, and she needs my help." Yeah, keep telling yourself that, he told himself bitterly. By the look on Roger's face, it was clear that he was thinking pretty much the same thing. "Look, I'll catch you guys in Life later, okay?" Roger looked as if he wanted to say something, but stopped himself. Mimi simply nodded and gave him a weak smile. Mark smiled back, grabbed his camera and left the loft hastily.

He had never been in their place, he realized as he tied his bike in front of Maureen and Joanne's building. The area was so much better than theirs. It was a nice neighborhood; it looked kind of expensive. The buildings weren't higher than five stories, and they looked new and well kept. No pilling plaster on the walls, no broken lamps, or flickering light in the staircase.

He looked up. There was a light on the forth floor, where he knew their apartment was. He hoped she was okay. He knew what Roger was thinking. She was using him. Every time Joanne screwed up something or wasn't around, Maureen always counted on him to come over and save the day. Of course he realized that. He wasn't that stupid. But he could never say no to her. How could he resist her? Especially when she sounded so sick and miserable?

His sloppy appearance immediately drew the doorman's attention for he gave him a weird look, but didn't stop him from going in. As he walked into the elevator, he got to a decision. It was the last time she was leading him on like that. He was sick of the Tango. He wasn't her boyfriend anymore. He shouldn't be the one solving every problem for her. He must learn to be assertive or he'd end up being her puppet forever. Being assertive, that's it. This was exactly what he needed. All he had to do was go in there, and tell her that, he thought, approaching their door. He knocked as lightly as he could.

"Mark?"

Determination was shattering in his face. Who was he kidding? "Yeah, it's me."

"Is your camera on?"

Looking down at his camera, he realized he forgot to turn it on. "No… no, it isn't."

"Turn it off please."

He rolled his eyes. "Maureen, I told you, it's off."

"You better it is," she said, opening the door. He stepped inside and turned to look at her as she closed the door and locked it. She was wearing a red, flannel pajama that made her look tiny, and thick gray socks, that looked exactly like the pair that mysteriously disappeared from his dresser about two years ago, when she left the loft. Her hair was a mess, streaming down her shoulders. Her nose was red and a bit puffy, so were her eyes. She looked bad. Like he never thought he'd ever see her.

It was warm inside, so he took off his coat and looked around him. The living room and the kitchen area seemed to be as big as their entire loft. Everything was perfectly organized and immaculately clean. Each book and vase and picture was in its right place. So Joanne, he thought bitterly. But then he turned his attention back to the living room area, which was as messed up as Maureen. There were tissues scattered all over, and the TV was on with some old movie he didn't recognize from that distance. Joanne would get a heart attack if she'd see the way her living room looked, he figured, following Maureen inside.

"Where's Joanne?"

"In Washington until Thursday. They had this case and they had to-" she sneezed, making him jump back with a start. Maureen moaned in frustration and flopped herself dramatically on the couch.

He looked at her concerned. "What happened?"

"What does it look like?" she asked, sniffing into another tissue. Considering the way she looked like, it was a pretty stupid question, he realized.

"Did you try to contact Joanne?"

Maureen shook her head. "What's the point? She won't fly back because her girlfriend is sick." She didn't even call Joanne! He knew this should have made him angry, but it didn't. How could he possibly be mad at her?

"I'm gonna die," Maureen stated miserably.

He laughed softly. "You're not gonna die, you just have a cold. Do you have a fever?" he sat next to her, gently laying a hand on her forehead.

"No I don't."

"Yes, you do. Lie down." He found a blanket on the back of the couch and tucked it around her. "Did you take anything for this cold?"

"No, you know how pills make me all sleepy," she said pouting. His heart melted.

"Well, it doesn't look like you have much choice." He stood up. "Where do you keep medications and stuff?"

"In the small cabinet in the bathroom. It's the second door down the hall." She surrendered pretty easily. He was expecting a struggle. She must be really out of it, he figured.

"Okay. I'll go and get you something. Try to stay alive until I go back."

She hardly smiled, just laid back and closed her eyes. He found the room and the medications fairly quick, and stopped at the kitchen to fetch a glass of water for her. As he sat on the edge of the couch, he caught a glimpse of the TV screen. He gave Maureen a strange look as he handed her the glass and some pills.

"What are you watching?"

"Gone with the Wind. Do you have a problem with that?"

"No. No, I just never thought of you as the Gone with the Wind type of person, that's all," he said carefully. He could never think of her as someone who would watch that movie willingly. He blamed it on her fever.

She looked slightly offended. "This is a classic, I love this movie with burning passion." He smiled. What a Maureen-thing to say.

He watched her carefully as she sat up, looking miserably at the three pills in her hand. "Why three?" she asked.

"One to stop the cold, one to lower your temperature, and the last one is a pain killer to help you sleep."

"Do I have to take all of them?" she grumbled.

"Do you want me to call Joanne and tell her you refuse to take them?"

She frowned, and took the pills with no further complaint. "There. Are you happy now?"

"Yeah. I am. You'll fall asleep before this movie ends, I can promise you that."

"Ha ha," she said, sticking her tongue at him.

"Do you need anything? Tea? Chicken soup?"

"Why, are you going somewhere?" she gave him that poor-lost-puppy look.

I'm supposed to meet Roger and Mimi for dinner. "No. I'm not going anywhere."

She looked satisfied. "Good. So we can watch the end of the movie together."

"Oh, no," he groaned, laughing. It was the longest movie ever.

"And yeah, I wouldn't mind some milk and cookies. And chocolate. And diet coke. And a toast with peanut butter and jam."

"Anything else?" he asked, laughing.

"Wine and beer?" she looked at him hopefully.

He shook his head. "Nice try, though."

After struggling for a while with figuring out where was what in their kitchen, he got back to the living room with toasts with peanut butter and jam for both of them, and tea for Maureen. She hardly turned her eyes from the TV screen as he sat beside her.

"I can't believe you're actually watching this," he said.

"Of course I am. I can't believe you never have."

"I didn't say I've never watched it. Cindy made me watch it once, when we both had the chicken pox. It's just not one of my favorite films, that's all."

"What is?"

He looked at her confused. "What is what?"

"Your favorite," she took a piece of toast and took a small bite of it.

"Hmm…" Tough question. He hardly watched movies nowadays. He was always too busy making his own films. And the old video they had in the loft was broken most of the times. "Well, I had several, as a kid. My favorite?" There was one, but he wasn't really proud naming it as a twenty-something-year-old. He thought of giving her another movie's name. She'd never know that he was lying, anyway. But unfortunately, nothing else came in mind. Could he really tell her that? "I guess that would be E.T," he said quietly, hoping she'd miss it. Maybe something would distract her.

Maureen burst into laughter, which soon died out and was replaced by a fit of coughs. "E.T? You've got to be kidding me! Does Roger know?"

"Of course not. No one knows."

"Oooh, should I feel special for being the only one who does know?" she asked teasingly, but didn't seem to notice the blush that rose in his cheeks. She giggled. "E.T. That is so cute. Absolutely adorable. I can't believe I didn't know that!"

He shrugged. "You've never asked."

"Unbelievable," she couldn't stop smiling as she placed the tea mug on the coffee table.

"You're gonna use this to blackmail me now, right?"

She flashed him a devilish grin. "I might." Her grin suddenly widened. He gave her a questioning look as she gently pulled at his scarf, slowly sliding it off his neck. "I wanna know once and for all. Did you find this hideous thing in a dumpster somewhere in the Village?" she asked, fiddling with a loose string.

He laughed softly. "I didn't find it. I got it for my birthday. From you." She raised her head to look at him questionably. "You bought it from that woman in the park?" he reminded her. He remembered that day as if it happened yesterday.

There was a spark of recognition in Maureen's eyes, even though she started to look somewhat drowsy. "Oh yeah, now I remember," she nodded. She looked more and more disoriented. It was as if she was drunk, only she wasn't. Beads of sweat were glistening on her forehead. "It was a looong time agooo," she murmured, her head dropping on his shoulder.

"You need to sleep," he said, touching her forehead again. She was burning up. But thankfully, those pills seemed to have an affect on her finally.

"No, I don't wanna sleep, I wanna watch this movie…"

"No, you wanna sleep," he insisted, picking her up. On his way to the bathroom before he spotted the bedroom, so he had no trouble finding it now. Maureen was humming the chorus of her protest from the previous Christmas as he laid her on the bed and pulled the covers around her. "I'll be in the next room if you need be, okay?"

She murmured something in response, but it didn't sound as if it was meant for him. And then halfway to the door, he heard her calling his name.

"Mark?"

"Yeah?"

"Will you stay with me until I fall asleep?"

Determination. Assertiveness. Self control. You can say no to her. You must say no. He turned to look at her. Ugh. "Sure. I'll stay with you." Against his better judgment, he slipped out of his shoes. He tried to ignore the pressing thought that this was the bed she shared with the woman she dumped him for. Maureen moved to the middle of the bed, making some room for him.

"It's so cold," she said, snuggling closer to him. He hesitated, and then wrapped his arms around her, sitting against the bed-board.

"Shhh. Sleep. You'll be okay tomorrow."

"After all… tomorrow is another day," she mumbled, laying her head on his chest. She closed her eyes. "I love you, Marky," she murmured right before she drifted into deep slumber, breathing heavily.

A slow, sad smile formed on Mark's face. "I love you too."

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